Paradis
by OMG-Orlaith
Summary: A short fic on Bobby's afterlife. Slight AU, Bobby has gone straight to heaven without becoming a spirit.


"Rise and shine, old man!"

Bobby wakes with a start as Dean's voice echoes through the hallway. Rubbing his eyes, he glances around his room. Everything's the same. His hat is on his bedside table, and his clothes for today are strewn across an armchair. Suddenly, his hand flies to his forehead, anxiously searching for the bullet hole that isn't there anymore. The bullet hole that was there _yesterday_...

"We're waiting, Bobby! Don't have all day!" Sam's impatient voice comes from the other side of the door.

"Just a second." Bobby murmurs in response. He gets up, opens his curtains, and freezes on the spot. The sight of Singer's Auto Self Service Salvage Yard greets him, to his immense surprise. After a minute spent taking it all in, he puts on his clothes, shrugging on his familiar plaid shirt and barely keeping himself from grinning.

It must have been a dream. All the blood, the bullets, and the Leviathans. Having to say goodbye to his boys, which must all have been a nightmare? It's the only explanation.

Stepping into the kitchen, he is greeted by scoffs.

"Finally. I was wondering if you're getting too old for this." Dean remarks, raising an eyebrow.

"C'mon, Dean. Respect your elders." Sam can't help but adding. "Hey, what's gotten you all happy?"

"Nothin'...Nothin' at all, boys." Bobby grins. "So, what do you got in mind for today?"

"Demonic possession in Pierre, not too far from here. We'll call you at around seven for some details, ok Bobby?"

With a nod, Bobby also gestures towards the paperwork littering his desk.

"I'll sort through that by noon, boys."

Laughing, Sam and Dean make their way to the door.

"By the way, Karen's coming back from the supermarket any minute now. She just went to pick up some chips for later."

Once the door shuts, Bobby runs toward his room. He opens the closet, and sure enough, dresses and skirts and blouses, all neatly folded, hang beside his shirts. There, in boxes, were all the photos of their wedding that he had thought he'd burned. He couldn't stand the pain of his memories, you see, and forgetting as much of his wife's death as possible was the only way he could continue living.

But this can't be right. It can't be. Yes, he'd prayed every night for countless years that she'd come back, but the last time he'd seen her, she had to be killed. Again.

There was no way this is normal.

Bobby is snapped out of his reverie by the sound of the door swinging open. Barely containing his anticipation, he runs to the door to meet her.

"It's you." He whispers, breathlessly.

"Of course it's me," she laughs, handing him the bag of groceries. "Nobody else except Sam and Dean has the key."

He watches her in awe as she hangs up her coat, and follows her to the kitchen.

"Are you alright, sweetie? You look as though you've seen a ghost."

"You know, I thought I had." He chuckles. "Just my imagination, I guess."

"Alright then. I was thinking about making a pie, you want some later?" She smiles radiantly at him, making him feel weak.

"There is nothing I'd want more, believe me."

"Are you being sarcastic?" She frowns slightly.

"No, not at all...I just miss your pies, that's all." Still reeling from the shock, Bobby strides forward and hugs her. Surprised, she questions him, but still hugs him tightly as he kisses her forehead.

"I love you, sweetie."

"I love you too, Bobby."

After a day spent baking together (to Karen's surprise, as Bobby had never helped before) the boys return home, slightly bloodied but triumphant none the less. Dinner is served around seven, with all the family sitting around, talking and laughing.

When Sam and Dean head off once more (after three servings of pie for Dean) Bobby sits down with Karen once more.

"This is heaven." She murmurs.

"It sure is, baby." Bobby agrees.

"No, Bobby. I don't think you understand." She replies tenderly. "Don't you know where you are?"

Confused, Bobby shakes his head slightly and gestures around him.

"This-this can't be heaven! Heaven is your memories, Karen. This ain't ever happened before."

"Heaven isn't set in stone for each individual, Bobby." She whispers, holding his hand.

That night, just as he falls asleep, Bobby accepts the truth. And, in his opinion, if this is heaven, it ain't half bad.


End file.
